


Sugar, We're Going Down

by cabinet_man



Category: Bully (Video Games)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:08:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabinet_man/pseuds/cabinet_man
Summary: Jimmy should have been doing this instead of Gord.Jimmy knew Blue Skies like the back of his hand, and easily maneuvered his way around with his skateboard. Gord, however, barely even knew about the small population living there, with the tiny, heatless shacks and rusted trailers that the townies called home.





	Sugar, We're Going Down

**Author's Note:**

> i'm still kind of _bad_ at writing bully characters, since i don't have too much writing experience with them, but hopefully my characterizations are a little bearable..?
> 
> this fic takes place during the summer and the second year of jimmy being at bullworth. some of the events seem jumbled up, but that was on purpose. something similar to how memories work, if that makes any kind of sense
> 
> if you know me from tumblr, chances are that you'll know how big of a gordunc shipper i am (and how i lowkey want others to start shipping it too lmao)
> 
> but i finally finished chapter one and have a direction i want to move in with this fic! it's a slow burn (and enemies < friends < lovers), but those will all be incorporated soon enough <3

Out of all the places Gord could have gone, never once did he ever think he’d end up in Blue Skies industrial park.

It was really Jimmy’s fault for sending him out here, and not the withdrawal effects of the cigarettes he often smoked. It was Jimmy’s fault for suddenly deciding that Gord’s daily fix of nicotine wasn’t so important anymore. It was Jimmy’s fault, and Jimmy’s fault alone. At least that’s what Gord would like to think, anyhow.

The smoking habit started all the way back in Gord’s sophomore year, back when Jimmy first arrived at the academy. It had been someone named Gary who actually got Gord hooked on the cancer sticks- the way he spoke so highly of them and often tempted Gord by waving an unopened pack at the prep. Gary loved to torture people, and Gord was certain that this was the way to torture him.

Gary was fully aware of all the stress that Gord was under, what with Jimmy deciding to target his clique next. That was also when Gord started to sneak out with Lola, going behind the back of the greasers’ leader because Derby wanted to rile up their arch-enemies. Johnny Vincent did find out, thanks to the Hopkins boy. One pack a month became one pack a week, and Gary always showed up with a new pack and an all-knowing smirk. The cigarettes were killing Gord, slowly and steadily. Whether it was the nicotine or the withdrawal symptoms was up for debate, but Gary knew that he had the prep in his hands, playing with him like a toddler would with putty.

It wasn’t until Gary disappeared from the scene that Gord went to Jimmy. The brunet practically begged him to go out to New Coventry or Blue Skies or wherever so long as he got a pack, and eventually Jimmy finally gave in. Gord had kissed him then, because he’d seen the way that the other had been eyeing him. They parted and Gord confessed, and Jimmy pulled him behind the bleachers so that they could have their privacy.

There was no relationship between Jimmy and Gord, though. They only got together to make out, and sometimes more. Friends with benefits could be the criteria that their status fell under, but they didn’t really like labels defining what they were.

Gord had his smokes, and felt content again. He was less stressed, and paid no mind to the greasers until he was clocked right in the nose by none other than Johnny Vincent. Jimmy had revealed that he helped Johnny, but only because he was trying to bring peace to Bullworth. Gord called him a traitor, and cursed his name. Jimmy left Gord without a single word, and the weight of it all absolutely demolished any sense of security that the prep had left.

When Gord retired to the Harrington House later that night, Derby had told Bif that their friend looked “so dreadfully dreary” before deciding to retire to bed themselves for the night. Except that Bif did not retire to bed, and instead spent the night with Gord. They talked some, and then some more until Bif enclosed the smaller prep in his arms and held him as they lay on the bed, facing one another. Gord had cried into his chest until he fell asleep, and Bif followed suit.

Gord had difficulty getting up that morning, what with the splitting headache and heavy eyelids that almost caused him to nod back off to sleep. Bif had dragged him out of the extravagant king-sized bed and dressed him, then sent him on his way to class. Bif had other matters to attend to, specifically with Derby and exacting the perfect scheme to get revenge on Jimmy. Bif hadn’t told Derby of Gord’s sudden depression episode, it was more of the fact that the Hopkins boy managed to destroy their first plan by giving Johnny those pictures of Lola and Gord. Lola was supposed to leave Johnny for Gord completely, but instead she broke things off with Gord and fell for Jimmy instead.

But all-in-all, Jimmy was at fault.

Jimmy should have been doing this instead of Gord.

Jimmy knew Blue Skies like the back of his hand, and easily maneuvered his way around with his skateboard. Gord, however, barely even knew about the small population living there, with the tiny, heatless shacks and rusted trailers that the townies called home.

Jimmy had eventually contacted Gord when he noticed the symptoms of withdrawal. Gord wasn’t certain if it was sympathy or pity that caused the shorter boy to finally speak to him, but Jimmy told Gord who to look for out in Blue Skies and Gord took off almost immediately. New Coventry was greaser territory, everyone knew that. Bif and had Chad accompanied him to the border between the greasers’ and townies’ turfs out of fear that their friend would end up a bloody mess and then sent back to the Harrington House as a warning. Whether that warning would be from the greasers or townies was up for debate.

So now Gord was searching for a townie who went by the name Duncan. Jimmy’s description wasn’t very helpful, because he couldn’t get a good look at any townie as they threatened and chased after him.

The prep had a hand pressed to a metal wall, trying his best to catch his breath. Footsteps approached, but he didn’t dare look up.

“You the one Jim sent?” The voice spoke, and Gord had to look because at least this guy wasn’t spewing threats or derogatory words. He almost sounded normal.

“Pardon?” Gord asked, locking eyes with the much taller townie. He was intimidating, and Gord felt his blood run cold as those brown eyes swept over him. This guy was dangerous, but Gord wanted to be closer for reasons unknown to him.

“Hopkins,” the townie responded, hands delving deep into the pockets of his ratty jeans. “Did Hopkins send you here on a cigarette run.”

“Yes. Yes he did,” Gord responded, and subconsciously took a step backwards, away from the other man.

Gord got a good look at him then. The townie was only a few feet taller than him, and while he had muscle, he also looked fairly skinny. He assumed it was simply because of the fact that he was living out in Blue Skies. His hair was a gingery-brown color, cut in a similar fashion of a mohawk but swept back, and his eyes were like melted chocolate. There was some stubble on his chin, and his ears were pierced, along with his left eyebrow. The guy was attractive, by Gord standards.

“I’m surprised a pretty flower like you even managed to come out this far,” said the townie, and Gord crossed his arms.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” The prep almost scoffed, trying his best to look at least semi-threatening. But he was just compared to a “pretty flower,” so chances are he was doing a poor job at that.

“It means we don’t usually got people like you lurkin’ round here,” the man responded. “You got guts, I’ll give ya that much. Call me Duncan.”

Gord, out of sheer politeness and routine, stuck out his hand to shake Duncan’s hand. Realizing what he was doing, because Duncan wasn’t taking it and didn’t look like he even planned to anytime soon, he lowered his hand back down to his side. Duncan snorted and Gord felt his face flush out of embarrassment.

“Er,” Gord started, “my name is Gord Vendome. I am… pleased to make your, uh, acquaintance.”

“Sure,” responded Duncan, who flashed a toothy grin at him. “So, how’re we gonna do this? You payin’ now, or when I get your cigs?”

Gord felt himself freeze up. “You… you didn’t get them yet?”

Duncan shook his head and leaned up against the old light post that was still surprisingly glowing brightly down on them.

“Nope,” he said, putting an emphasis on the ”P” by popping it. “No pay until Friday. You’ll get ‘em then.”

“That is outrageous!” Gord clearly was a spoiled brat, Duncan decided. Things had to be his way right at that very second or he’d throw a tantrum. Typical preppy behavior. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “I didn’t come here for your own amusement!”

“I never said ya did,” Duncan said, pulling a lighter from his left pocket and a single white cancer stick from the right. He could feel Gord’s eyes burning into his skull, but decided to not acknowledge it.

But then the burning was becoming an annoyance, so he finally decided to acknowledge Gord and his hate-filled gaze.

“Ya got somethin’ to say, rich boy?” He grumbled out, eyeing the prep.

“No.” Gord bit back the venom in his voice as best as he could, but ultimately failed. His response came out as a hiss, which caused Duncan to scowl.

But then Duncan was taking the cigarette from his mouth and holding it between his fingers and the next thing Gord knew he was feeling the sweet, sweet taste of nicotine and tobacco flooding his mouth and taking over his senses. He breathed out the smoke while Duncan took a drag himself.

“What…” Gord started, but his words barely processed in his mind. He took a moment to regain his composure and get over the state of shock he was in. “Why did you do that?”

Duncan could only shrug, blowing out a smoke ring himself. “You’re being too stiff, duder.”

“Duder.” Gord hated that word- how unprofessional it was. Well, this wasn’t even a professional meeting in the first place, but did Duncan know who he was speaking to? Obviously not, otherwise he would have been more polite, more understanding. Maybe not understanding, but more adequate in, well, everything.

“You speak like a street urchin,” Gord grumbled to himself.

“Well, duh, that’s what I am,” said Duncan in a matter-of-fact kind of tone. He didn’t seem to take offense to the insult, and Gord kind of admired him for that. But he’d never admit to thinking such a thing. You don’t respect the people below you- especially those living in the rougher side of town. They were supposed to respect you and acknowledge you as their superior.

That’s what Daddy said, anyhow, and when has Daddy ever been wrong?

Gord couldn’t really think of anything else to say to the townie, and judging by the silence he was receiving, he could assume that the townie also didn’t have anything to say to him either. They stood in silence for a while, until Gord yawned and Duncan dropped his smoke onto the pavement below and crushed it with his boot. Gord idly wondered how many people Duncan had done that to, but quickly discarded any and all thoughts. He didn’t want to think about being the one under his boot, with his teeth on the corner of the pavement, and waiting for the blow to come and destroy his mouth and jaw.

“You can go,” said Duncan.

“What?” Gord wasn’t sure if he heard him correctly.

“I said you can go. Ya don’t gotta hang around if ya don’t wanna.”

“Oh.”

He’s not quite sure why he stayed behind. Well, yes he did, but he’s not sure why he’s so interested in this man and this man alone. Rugged and torn and ragged all over, and even with the sharp edge to him, Gord still found himself being drawn ever so closely. Maybe it was because Duncan was so poor that his amazement in his life wanted him to be closer.

“Friday,” said Duncan all of a sudden. “Meet me here. You bring what I want, and I’ll bring what you want, yeah?”

“Fair enough,” Gord agreed, and then he turned on his heel and walked towards New Coventry. He spotted his friends easily, and the three of them returned to Harrington House. Gord retired to his room after reassuring Chad that yes, he was fine and no, he did not need a maid to check up on him later.

When he awoke, it was not to his alarm clock, which read in a bright blue color: 2:19 AM.

The wait for Friday would surely drive Gord mad.

**Author's Note:**

> jamesjimmyhopkins.tumblr.com


End file.
